


A Vulgar Sense of Comfort

by LuciferxDamien



Category: Rome (TV 2005)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-05
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-11-24 16:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20910740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuciferxDamien/pseuds/LuciferxDamien
Summary: Brutus finds himself ensnared by Antony's magnetic charms, and it is more than just pleasure he finds in the brutish man's arms. With Antony, he finds a sense of solace and distraction from the chaos of Rome and the stress of plotting to remove tyrants.





	A Vulgar Sense of Comfort

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Verecunda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Verecunda/gifts).

> Somehow, this was not brutal hatesex. xD

Why...

Brutus gasped, everything tight and hot. The fires flickered around the room, casting everything in a hazy, warm glow.

Why did he keep finding himself on his back like this? 

Plush though his surroundings were, it was... 

He hissed, fisting thick hair between his trembling fingers. A groan escaped his throat and he arched his back, thighs quivering. 

Fingers twisted deep inside of him, a devilish mouth wrapped around his cock and he should have known better... 

Oh, he really ought to have known better. 

And yet, here he was, writhing in pleasure, moaning wantonly as his cock was sucked and his arse was spread wide for thick, rough fingers. Oil stained the couch they laid upon, the furs strewn about and Brutus shouldn't have cared, they were not his own things, and... 

His mind tried so deliberately to derail him from his pleasure. His mind tried to trick him into thinking of unimportant things, when his body just screamed for pleasure. So badly he wanted to let loose, to buck into that hot mouth. That... that vulgar mouth that lapped at his sac and said the most disgusting of things... 

Brutus hissed out his groan, his jaw set tight as he looked down at those eyes. So smug, so sure of himself... This was a man that oozed confidence, so much surety and perhaps Brutus was just a touch jealous of him for that. 

Antony was a man of magnetism. A strong personality, a dominating force and— 

Brutus' eyes flew open as he felt it, felt himself coming undone, only, no... 

No, Antony was not a merciful lover. Quite the opposite. 

Antony increased his grip around Brutus' cock, holding him firm as he drove his fingers in harder and faster. He didn't need to say anything, Brutus could see it from the glint in his eyes. 

_'I will make you suffer and whimper...' _

Brutus gasped, tugging on Antony's hair, trying to force his cock deep into his throat, but ah... He had no leverage, he had not the strength to compete with Antony. Of course, few men did have the physicality to compete with Antony himself. 

It was too much, and yet not enough! Antony pulled back, suckling the head of Brutus' cock, nipping at his foreskin and exposing the tender flesh before rolling the skin back over to continue his exquisite torment. Torment that Brutus openly welcomed, night after night... 

He whimpered, his hole clench, his tight ring of muscle aching from Antony' abuse. It was too much and still, Brutus found himself bucking, pulling Antony down onto his cock, thrusting his hips up into his mouth, listening to the obscene way he gagged, the way his eyes rolled back and Brutus let himself be smug, if only for a moment, until the fingers inside of him did their work, pushing at all of his most sensitive places. 

Brutus bit down on his lip, tasting metallic as he ground down on Antony's fingers. The man was massive, and even if he had three or four digits shoved inside of Brutus, it would not be enough. He would suffer, still, when taken, when they coupled. 

Perhaps it was that Brutus wanted that suffering, that pain. It was an addiction, perhaps, one that he could fulfill with no other person. 

Antony moaned, looking at him again, sucking his cock in earnest, bobbing his head quickly and Brutus couldn't anymore. He grabbed onto Antony's thick hair with both hands and forced him down, thrusting his hips up as he clenched against the fingers inside of him until his pleasure finally burst and he was laying panting and limp, eyes heavy and hazy. 

"Why do I keep letting you do this to me..." Brutus whispered, more to himself and the shadows dancing on the walls than to his company and Antony sat up, wiping his chin clean of seed, his fingers still inside of Brutus’ twitching hole. 

"Really? You pull out my hair and shout, then complain with your next breath?" Antony huffed, a breathy, haughty sound that was more than just from having his mouth wrapped around Brutus' length. "Incredible. Perhaps it is I that should ask why I keep doing it to you, if all you will do is complain!"

Brutus smiled, lopsided, still trying to catch his breath. He toyed with a ravenous lion, and he knew it, and yet, he poked at the beast all the same. 

A beast with supple lips that kissed him hungry. Antony tasted of salt and bitter, Brutus’ own seed. It had him groaning as he fought for breath, forced to taste himself. 

"You are vulgar..." Brutus whispered as the kiss broke and Antony grabbed him by the hair.

"More complaining? Should I show you true vulgarity and shove my cock down your throat?"

Brutus smiled, his cock twitching in interest. He ought not have protested so much, he knew it, but to get Antony riled up... He groaned, parting his thighs and canting his hips. "You could do that, it would certainly quiet my run away tongue..."

"Oh...?" Antony licked his swollen lip, those sharp fangs of his glinting in the flickering firelight. "Or what else might I do to you, ne? You are a clever thing, aren't you? What are you scheming?"

Brutus let out a small sound, the air still slow to come into his breast. Scheming, indeed… Those were treacherous thoughts, thoughts he came to Mark Antony to lose, even for just a short while. "You could most certainly bury your cock in my throat, and I would lap and _groan_ and plead for more..." Antony shuddered, his cock twitching and Brutus smiled. "Certainly you could do that..."

"Or...?" Antony's voice turned darker, gruffer and Brutus knew he had to speak, lest he end up bent over and mewling as Antony used him viciously.

Ah, what a terribly vulgar thought...

"Or, you might bury your cock between my legs... And quiet my vengeful tongue that way..." 

"_Oh_..." Antony gasped out. "You _are_ a clever thing, aren't you? What a devilishly wicked mind you have..." he laughed and bent down to press Brutus in the plush pillows again, eliciting a gasp and croon.

He was such a large man, thick and heavy. A solid weight of muscle and Brutus groaned, parting his thighs wider to allow Antony ample access.

Why, why, why...

Why did he let this vulgar, brutish man into his bedchamber.

But ah... Was it not Brutus in Antony's bedchamber? Late into the night, writhing and shifting, like the flickering of a flame. An ephemeral thing, their relationship in the day cutting words and hard looks, and then at night, Brutus was treated to Antony's truest and purest form of vulgarity and...

And Brutus parted his thighs, canted his hips and made soft noises of pleasure that built into loud cries of passion.

Who could Brutus say was the more vulgar of the two of them? The more wretched man? 

Antony, for all his many flaws, never lied or hid his rutting nature. A wanton man with a vicious appetite. No, Antony never hid that, not at all. 

But Brutus... He tried to hide behind his nobility, he tried to resist such urges, only to find himself swept up in Antony, Antony, Antony... 

Brutus smiled, swiping his thumb over Antony's strong cheek. 

"What now is this?" Antony asked him, narrowed eyes, always suspect of everyone around him, and for good measure. 

Brutus just laughed, taking Antony's head in both hands, pulling him up and kissing him. 

He tasted bitter, tasted of man and Brutus let his eyes flutter shut as he moaned and forced his tongue deeper, lapping, licking until he had to pull away to breathe. Antony gave him a curt laugh, but he smiled as he looked upon him. 

"You always are such a strange on, ne?" he said, voice soft, so unlike his usual self, out in public, on the battlefield. Out there, Antony could never be anything but a brute, but perhaps... 

Perhaps in these quiet moments, where no one else could see, Antony could be kind. 

Or, perhaps, Brutus was just a fool. 

So much upheaval in Rome had taken place in too short of a time and Brutus was still struggling to find footing in his life. Somehow, he had found Antony and clung to him, even while being threatened and tortured by the man. 

There was a looming conflict on the horizon, Brutus knew this... 

He pulled Antony in for another kiss, anything to push away such dreadful thoughts. 

"Morning waits for no man..." Brutus whispered against Antony's swollen, slick lips. 

"Heh... Strange creature you are..." Antony whispered. "But never have I been one to leave a wanton lover waiting and wanting..." 

Brutus smiled, letting Antony go with some small amount of hesitation. Antony was selfishness personified, and yet... 

He was a man of so much more. Hedonistic, yes, terribly so. 

Perhaps it was that that drew Brutus in. A man that did not hesitate to take his own pleasure, the world be damned. 

A man only lives once, right? 

Antony sat on his haunches, his cock standing thick and hard, pearled with pre-seed. Brutus idly wondered if Antony was ever soft, he always seemed to be rock hard, waiting for the next conquest, or waiting woman. 

Brutus stretched back, forcing his eyes to close and his mind to quiet as Antony oiled himself. 

"On your back, or on your knees?" Antony asked, that gruff vulgarity back in his voice. 

Brutus lifted an eye and smiled at him. "I am still unsure of which you prefer more..." 

Antony smiled. "On your back then, ne? I do so enjoy watching as you struggle to take my cock into yourself." 

Vulgar... 

Antony gave him no time, however, pressing his blunt cock against Brutus' hole, pressing in without hesitation. Brutus tried not to grimace, he tried not to give Antony the satisfaction of his pain, but oh, then Antony drew his hips back and thrust forward hard… 

Brutus surged, pain searing through his lower half as he gave a great shout. 

Antony chuckled, looking at him with amusement as he snapped his hips and fully sheathed himself. Those fingers might have been thick, but his cock was thicker still. A blunt, throbbing thing and Brutus was writhing, trying to turn over to his side, but Antony held him by the hips, grinding his hardness in, trying to get even deeper. 

"Ah..." Antony cooed at him, his cheeks flushed and Brutus knew he was breathing raggedly, his soft cock twitching between them. "Yes... Yes that is the look I quite enjoy..." He chuckled, dragging Brutus up onto his thighs, taking all of Brutus' leverage, rendering him limp and weak and at Antony's mercy. 

It was a perverse sort of vulnerability and intimacy. Pain throbbed through him, his legs twitched and his thighs shook. It hurt, but then, it always did. It always hurt and Brutus still found himself in this bedchamber, laid out on these cushions and plush furs that were already stained with his sweat and blood. 

Brutus gasped and Antony flicked his tongue out over his bottom lip. "What a look you give to me, each and every time I penetrate you... It's look of pure malice, and if looks could curse..." Antony broke off into a chuckle. "And yet, somehow, you still come to me at night, ne?" 

"V-vulgar!" Brutus cried out and Antony took his cue to start moving. It burned, his muscles stretched and his body shook with the most decadent combination of pain and pleasure. 

"Vulgar I am... And you are no better, Brutus..." Antony whispered and he bent down, capturing Brutus' mouth in a biting kiss. He moved hard then, thrusting, snapping his hips as he drove his cock in far too deep. 

Brutus just held on and cried out, gasping, perhaps even begging for more. His body felt alight with flames. Why, oh why did he enjoy this torture so much? 

Brutus spasmed, his thighs quivering as he was driven into with heat and fury and if he spilled once more, he could not say. Antony's hips began to stutter, to falter and lose their fluidity. 

"Oh!" Antony called out, his face contorted in pleasure, pulling back once more to savagely take Brutus. 

Brutus accepted it, gasping, salt stinging at his eyes, and he knew the tears were from more than just the sweat on his brow. 

Things were coming to a culmination and Brutus shouted in time with Antony. So many pieces had been laid out, so much careful planning... 

Antony surged forward once more, burying himself deep as he spilled. Brutus should have made him pull out, but he never did, taking a twisted pleasure in feeling Antony spill inside of him. 

Vulgar indeed… If any man could match the brash vulgarity of Mark Antony, it had to have been Brutus in moments such as these. 

Antony collapsed on him and Brutus wrapped his arms around his shuddering shoulders, cooing, coaxing. So much had changed in so short a time, and so much more was about to change, in too short a time... 

Brutus shuddered and sobbed, Antony shifting himself, but that was not the reason for Brutus' cries. 

A terrible plot was upon them, in the month of March. 

“Heh…” Antony scoffs, pulling himself up, hot and sticky and Brutus is still panting. “Still, you are not satisfied? I begin to question which of us is more wanton, on nights such as these, my dear _friend_.” 

It is a word spoken because it must be, for there is no semblance of friendship between the two of them. Brutus might have called this a relationship of convenience, but it was so much more than that. 

He wanted to drown out all of his miseries with a man that never stopped smiling. 

Trembling, he reached his hand up, threading his fingers through Antony’s hair and bringing him down for a kiss. It might have been chaste, in comparison to their usual kissing. Soft, light, barely more than gentle presses of lips… 

Antony pulled back, confused and Brutus felt foolish. 

It was not a feeling that lasted long as he was pushed onto his side, Antony grunting as he shifted until Brutus lay on his stomach. He lacked the strength to climb to his knees, and it would have mattered little as he was pushed into with brutal force, pushing all of the air from his lungs in a desperate gasp. 

He cried out, he moaned and heard all that he gasped and groaned returned to him in violent echoes. Was that his own voice he heard thrown back at him, or were the gods mocking his wanton willingness to be bed by a man he ought to have called enemy? 

Brutus didn’t care, reaching between his legs to grasp his leaking cock. It was a brutal pleasure, one he craved. Here, beneath Antony, Brutus could release his careful control, he could relax as stalwart thighs slapped into him, over and over and over again. Hips snapped into his backside with bruising force and Brutus was left with little thought beyond _more, more, more_. 

His tongue might have run away from him, begging for what he craved, to be held down, a big hand pressing into his shoulder as Antony’s thrusts grew less fluid, more animalistic. Brutus didn’t care if he lacked dignity and grace, begging, tugging on his cock as he was used, and bruised, and _fucked_. 

It was welcomed, the pain, the pleasure. The heat rising to his cheeks as his stomach clenched and he pushed his hips into Antony’s with no rhythm. It was base and it was beneath him and _oh_, Brutus wanted it, holding onto these moments as his mind tried to pull him to places of death and darkness. 

He reached back, holding onto Mark Antony as he spilled once more, crying out with what little breath he had left, feeling hot stickiness surging into his fist. Antony spilled soon after, or so Brutus thought. Time melted away and he felt warm. 

Solace overtook him before his mind could drift to Caesar and his mother’s desperate plot. Antony was warm and solid, still atop him, still inside of him. He turned his head, looking at a man that was always smiling and Brutus felt a small smile pulling at his lips. 

The fire light flickered, dancing, casting their shadows wildly around the room. Brutus kissed a man he called vulgar and allowed a sense of calm and ease to overcome him, even as he knew it would not and could not last. 

He sighed. 

Antony banished his thoughts away, trailing kisses on his shoulder, nipping softly and Brutus smiled wide, sleep tugging desperately at him and he did not resist it for long.


End file.
